


Crossroads

by eugene25holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eugene25holmes/pseuds/eugene25holmes
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Crossroads

As the last ember of fire died out, your hopes died too. You sighed, warming your cold fingers on the cup of tea that you had now warmed twice. It wouldn’t even be enticing anymore to drink it, even alone. You got up, and shivered as your feet touched the cold, wooden floor and padded along to the kitchen. You picked up your phone from the counter and messaged Sherlock for the tenth time, asking him when he would be home. It was 1:00 AM now, your eyelids were drooping, and your mind was hazy. You waited a few minutes, but the sound of ping never graced your ears so you left the phone on the table and went to the room. There was no use of leaving dinner for Sherlock since he would definitely not even look at it.

You didn’t sleep, you _couldn’t_. You kept staring at the ceiling, letting your mind wander to the relation that you shared with Sherlock. It wasn’t your typical girlfriend-boyfriend relationship, it wasn’t even close to a romantic relationship where one person was so detached. You loved him. You loved him with all that you had, it hurt you to love someone who didn’t even spare a word of affection to you. You didn’t know how to be close to someone who was so distant. Words didn’t come easily to him, not in matters of affection but he could at least once just confirm your relationship.

It had all started that one night when he had come drunk with John on the stag night. He was laughing freely, and was more open than he had been in years. You just happened to stumble in there at an opportune moment, when John had passed out on the couch and Sherlock was staring into abyss, apparently. You went ahead and waved a hand in front of his face and his beautiful eyes, hazy, snapped towards you. “Oh. Y/N. _Y/N_. You are here.”, he pulled you into his lap and just leaned his forehead on your shoulder. You were dumbfounded, what exactly was this man doing?! Sure you had liked him pretty much since the very beginning and may have developed a small crush on him in the past few months but you had never anticipated such a thing from him. “Sherlock…….. Sherlock _what are you doing_?”, you asked slowly.

Sherlock raised his head, still in daze and said, “Oh I forgot to mention again, didn’t l? I like you, isn’t this what people, who like each other romantically, do?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. You felt a tightening in your throat. You had liked him too, you did. So you whispered, “Yes, yes this is what they do Sherlock but you are drunk right now. You don’t kno-“, he cut you off with a shake of his head. “No, I like you. _I really do._ This is the only way I could tell you.”, he said and leaned down to kiss your cheek. You felt your cheeks burn under the brush of his lips, as his baritone voice sent whispers down your spine. You said, “I like you too. More than you know.”

  
The next day you woke up with Sherlock wrapped around you, in the same position in which you had been sitting. He opened his eyes and they widened, realising the position you were in. You tried to get up, and stumbled a bit but you saw that he was blushing, could he have forgotten it? Probably. But apparently not. “So I told you?”, Sherlock rubbed his neck, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “Yes.”, you said and looked away. “So would you be- uh would you be my girlfriend?”, he spoke quickly, as if he wanted to get it over with. You simply nodded with a smile and he got up quick, a triumphant smile on his lips. “Good.”, he said and stumbled towards you, kissing you on the cheek again.

  
He was never good with physical affection. It had took him a month to kiss you on the lips, and that too a small peck. You understood that he didn't have much exposure in that arena and you never complained at the lack of affection, you were happy to be by his side, just being with him. But soon he started to grow more distant, whenever you would gather enough courage to confront him, he would come to you and kiss you, try to make up for it, but never voluntarily, never saying anything. Again at first you thought that his actions were worth more than his words, speaking volumes. But you were starved, you were starved of the affection, of that occasional praise from the one you love. It didn’t matter what people said, they warned you to stay away, to keep yourself guarded, even John. But you believed in Sherlock, you believed every word he said. “Of course I like you.”, he would say, but were you _important_ to him? But _did he care as much you did?_

  
You turned in your bed, a lone tear making its way down your cheek, and then others followed. You were so done with him now. He has been staying out all night since the past week, and in the day you went to job. You could not live like this, not with him being so cold, so far away from your reach. He whispered words of assurance but where were the words of love that you desired? When would they come, if they even would? And you had made a terrible mistake of falling in love with him. You despised yourself for loving him, for wanting him, for yearning for his touch. He never shared a part of himself with you. Did he not understand that not everyone could deduce like him? Did he view you as a drunk mistake?

  
These thoughts ate you up, emptied you every night. You got up and went to bathroom to wash your face. As you stared at your face in the mirror, you felt hollow. You never knew pain until this moment, when you were staring in the mirror, tears in your eyes, but still persuading yourself to just hold on, to look towards the brighter fringes of life. Now _that_ was pain. You were exhausted of pretending to be happy, you didn’t want to leave Sherlock, you loved him too much for your own good, but you couldn’t stay here knowing that you would always be taken for granted. You felt restricted, you just wanted to go out like normal people, hold hands, talk, just talk about anything you wanted to.

  
You had laid down in bed every night, hoping to fall asleep, before you fell apart. And you did. But not today. So you took a deep breath and steeled yourself. Determination gripped you, a want for something unattainable in you. You went back to the room and packed your clothes and all your belongings. You didn’t want to leave a trace of you with him. You shoved your clothes, your books, your every memory inside the bag. You would learn to live, to survive with these memories because you couldn’t let go of them. And they were handful.

  
Once you were done, you dragged your bags outside and went down the stairs. You didn’t want to think what Sherlock’s reaction would be, what others would think. You just went out and sat on your bags, on two roads whether you wanted to tell Mrs Hudson because she had been like a mother to you. So you just stood up and wandered aimlessly down the road, trying to get your mind to think what to do next. Even death seemed a tempting option now, you would gladly die, oh how convenient way to end your misery. But not the right way. Not-

  
Just as you were trying to get the negative thoughts out of your mind, you were faced with a car hurtling towards you at full speed, the lights blinding you and a tightening in your throat convinced you that this was indeed the end. Suddenly you were pulled away. And a pair of arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the impact of the fall on the pavement. You looked up to see Sherlock breathing heavily, looking at you desperately. _“Are you mad? Have you gone insane?_ ” Sherlock yelled at you. “What were you thinking? What if something had happened to you? Did you even think what I would feel?”, he asked you, shaking you. Your anger reached its peak and you snapped out of his hold.

  
“Now! Now why do you care? Let me die, what is it to you?”, you asked him, pointing finger at him. You were furious, it was near daybreak now. Your body was shaking with anger. Sherlock didn’t seem to be in a good condition either. His hands were shaking, but more out of fear, out of fear of losing you.  
“Why do I care? I care! _I care because it’s you! It’s always you._ ”, Sherlock subsided to a whisper as he moved towards you, coming up to cup your face but you stepped back, twice. “No. Not this time.”, you said and moved towards your bags. “What- what are you doing?”, Sherlock asked once he saw you with the bags. “What does it look like Mr Holmes? Having a trip?”, you sneered at him. You spun around, prepared to leave behind your heart, with him. But he caught your wrist and pulled you back. “Y/N, Y/N. Please, listen to me. _Listen_.”, the desperation in his voice reflected in his eyes. He really was begging, Sherlock Holmes begging.

  
You stood, looking up at him, waiting for him to say something. “I, I know I haven’t been the best.”, you scoffed and looked away, trying to mask the pain when you saw him so vulnerable. “You matter, you do matter. You _are_ the most important person in my life.”, he held your hands and put them on his chest. His hear was beating loud, fast and it thudded underneath your palms. “This fear, this fear that I feel is of losing you. I never said it but _I love you_.”, he said. And your eyes snapped to his, shocked and you stumbled back. “Now? Now you say it? It’s not enough now. You always do such things, you lie. Liar.”, you muttered bitterly. “You just need someone to raise you on a pedestal.”, you stepped back, now your words sounding hollow to yourself. You were half convinced, half convinced that he was not lying. 

  
Sherlock felt his heart shatter at the bitterness in tour voice and your words stung him. “I may be a liar, a manipulative jerk but never to _you_. Never to you Y/N. It’s not easy to love, not for me. Please, give me one more chance. I swear I will never, never in the worst of my nightmares ever take you for granted.” He fell to his knees in front of you, begging you, few tears slipping past his always cold façade. You began to cry, torn between your experience and what lay ahead. Against your better judgement you knelt in front of him, “Do you _promise?_ Tell me. Tell me you would never do that again.”, you asked him, desperately, trying to hold onto just a piece of what was left. 

  
“ _Yes._ Yes I swear on my life that I will never treat you the way I did. I love you, I don’t know what to do with it. I am not –“, you silenced him with your finger, “One last chance, _just one._ Show me. Show me how much you love me.”, you whispered and he wrapped his arms around you, nestling his face in the crook of your neck, “Gladly. I would do anything for you Y/N. Anything.”, he said in your ears and leaned down to kiss you, the most affectionate and endearing kiss that you ever had. His lips brushed yours, cupping your face, his lips cherished you, feeling you for the first time, letting go of all the inhibitions, finally surrendering himself to you.  



End file.
